Nibbled by the Vamp - Knight Protectors Book One Read online

  Knight Protectors: Book One

  Nibbled by the Vamp

  Celia Kyle

  October 2012

  Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Copyright, Celia Kyle. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Summerhouse Publishing

  http://summerhousepublishing.com

  Celia Kyle

  http://celiakyle.com

  Editor

  Chris Stout

  Cover Artist

  Celia Kyle

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  Wren decided running was bad with a capital “B”. Well, maybe not the running per se, but the reason behind it all was definitely on the fuck-me-in-a-bad-way train.

  Plus, she’d gone crazy. Totally bat-shit, straight-jacket-and-a-padded-room nutso.

  She knew walking had been a mistake. Huge. Gargantuan even. Sure, that morning she’d been filled with optimism. The first day on the way to a new Wren. Or, at least, a healthier version of her.

  If she was honest, she kinda dug her curves. It was just the out-of-breath while trudging up stairs part that she had been getting tired of.

  So she’d walked the ten blocks to work, sneakers on her feet and heels in her bag, optimism filling her from her big (non-implant) breast-eses down to her Kim Kardashian-esque badunk-a-dunk. Now, thirteen hours later at the end of her workday, she realized that had been a mistake. The streets along her route were lit by smatterings of lights and felt way too empty. Way.

  Then, her world took a nose dive. Three blocks from her office she passed a dark alley, one of the many lining the street, and a bright flash of blue caught her attention. Showing more stupidity than sense, Wren paused at the mouth of the darkened space, squinting into the gloom.

  The blue was followed by a sparkle of pink, then another in orange and yet another in neon yellow. That was followed by moans. A groan.

  “Help me…” The voice was soft, definitely feminine, and growing weaker by the second. “Please…” Those lights swirled round and round, darting and splitting the blackness. God, it was probably a bunch of club kiddies with those stupid glow lights attacking some woman. “No…”

  “Shitshitshit…” Wren dug in her purse and snagged her cell phone, poking at the touch screen, jabbing the surface and waiting for it to respond. It didn’t, of course. Because she never charged the fucking thing.

  Okay, she could bluff her way through this. Totally.

  “Hey!” She took a step into the pitch black alley. “Leave her alone! I’m calling the police!” She waved her phone in the air and took another step. Wren slipped her purse from her shoulder and gripped the straps. She could swing it around and get at least two of the woman’s attackers. She carried all but the kitchen sink in her bag and it was hella heavy. “I mean it, assholes!”

  The swirl of the lights stuttered, came together and gathered into a large multi-colored ball. And, oh crap, there were a lot of them.

  An eerie quiet descended; even the gentle wind had stilled. Wren’s heart thumped double-time as adrenaline poured into her veins.

  Then, those sparkles surged forward, racing from the end of the alley and right at her, rushing over the ground. And, fuck-tastic-ness, she didn’t hear a single footstep keeping time with the rapid approach of the lights.

  Wren did the only thing she could think of. She ran. Spinning on her sneaker-clad heels, she dashed back the way she’d come and burst onto the sidewalk. She’d send someone back for the woman. Just as soon as she regained her sanity.

  Her fat jiggled, breasts bouncing as she raced down the street, breath coming in great huffing puffs. One foot in front of the other, she ran as fast as her short legs could carry her. Damn her parents. Couldn’t they have been taller so that she would have been blessed with a longer stride?

  A grating buzz crept upon her and she spared a glance over her shoulder. That was a mistake. Those lights definitely didn’t have a single club kiddie among them. No. The closer they came, the more detail she could make out.

  Fairies. She was being chased by multi-colored, snarling, big-toothed fairies.

  Oh, god. Fairies were supposed to be nice. Hadn’t they heard of Tinkerbell?

  Growls seemed to surround her and she could feel the rhythmic beat of rushing air upon her back, small hands snatching at her hair as she ran. A sting of pain scratched at her neck and she cried out at the slicing hurt. Then another. And another.

  Those lights washed over her then, surrounded her, and she batted at them as best she could, pushing the fairies from her face. God, how far had she run?

  The little flying balls of evil grasped her arms, sunk their tiny teeth into her skin and she screamed again. They were everywhere, flashes of blue, pink, orange and yellow wrapped around her in a buzzing¸ pain-filled cloud.

  She hadn’t realized she’d stopped until a large, cool hand enclosed around her arm and yanked her into an alley, the pitch-black air swallowing her.

  A deep snarl enveloped Wren, wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.

  How fucked was it that she was soothed by a snarl?

  A large body stood before her. Wide shoulders covered in barely contained muscles blocked out the swirling lights that had surrounded her only moments before. Thank god, she’d found someone who was able to banish the hallucination.

  Warm wetness slithered down her arms and she glanced at her body…blood, the red, viscous, life giving fluid flowed from dozens of suspiciously rounded wounds. She rubbed her face and winced at the ache that flared to life and the need to faint washed over her at what covered her fingers.

  More blood.

  A roar snatched her attention from her body, the sound followed by a flaring white light that blinded her for the briefest of moments and then blackness swallowed her whole.

  For real this time. Because, well, she passed the fuck out.

  *

  Griffin Linch, vampire and Knight Protector, grunted when the woman behind him slumped against his back. He ignored the lush curves that conformed to his body. The scent of her poison-tainted blood wafted over him and he fought to keep his fangs from bursting through his gums. He wouldn’t sample her, wouldn’t savor the promising taste of her as she poured across his tongue.

  Fuck-fuck-fuck. Just imagining her life-giving fluid filling him had his cock hardening in his leathers. Her scent tantalized him, rose above the stench of garbage, pixie remains, and their poison, to reach deep into him. The hints of wildflowers and sunshine covered him, surrounded him in their comforting embrace.

  He was so fucked.

  As the last of the pixies turned to ash, their
human blood-filled bodies unable to withstand the burst of dragon’s fire from his amulet, the body against him shifted. He felt the woman he craved slide and he spun to catch her, cradling her Rubenesque form against his chest.

  The pale light of the street lamp danced across her features to reveal her fiery hair, a pert nose and plump lips that he ached to taste. Her body felt perfect against him, as if she were made for him and him alone. He was desperate to strip her bare, discover her secrets and worship her body. His fangs ached, the desire to nibble her from head to toe nearly overwhelming.

  It shouldn’t be this way. Griffin had met his fair share of beautiful women, tasted them even, but those feelings were nothing compared to the lovely in his arms.

  She moaned and twitched, jerked against his hold and he could sense the pixie’s poison digging deeper into her. Bites from the bastards peppered her face and neck, covered her exposed chest and lingered on her arms. A growl built from within, and the need to bring the creatures back just to kill them again coursed through his veins.

  The woman’s muscles spasmed and tightened beneath his hold.

  Damn it.

  He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. The laws of the Knight Protectors forbade getting involved in the balance between life and death. They had one job: protect the city from the Broken, those that had strayed from the path, ignoring the laws that governed their particular species. Period. If a human managed to live through an encounter with a Broken, the protectors were authorized to glamour those unfortunates into forgetting everything they’d seen. But truly saving a life, snatching them from death’s clutches, went against every decree he’d sworn to uphold centuries ago.

  And for the first time in his life he was ready to push those laws to their breaking point.

  Tightening his grip on the injured woman, Griffin pulled his cell phone from his pocket and placed his thumb on the screen, waiting as it verified his identity and granted him access to its contents. Pressing a single number, he waited for the call to be answered.

  “Go.” The deep voice of his fellow Protector boomed into the night.

  “Need an alley pickup between 6th and Lawrence. There’s blood in the wind, so I’m guessing we also need a cleanup six blocks south or so.”

  “Done.” The phone quieted with that single word and he knew that one of the other vamps in the Ring would come for him. Out of the ten other vamps, including their Sovereign, there had to be someone available. Hell, he’d even take a Novice in training.

  Griffin kept his hold tight on the female as he reached down and snatched her discarded purse, grasping it firmly in his hand. He scooped her into his arms and stepped to lean against the stone wall of the alley, holding her insignificant weight with ease.

  The woman whimpered and twitched, lids fluttering and he got a fleeting glimpse of her sparkling green eyes. The wounds peppering her skin no longer bled the bright red of pure blood. No, the burgundy hue had changed to a near-black, proof of the poison pounding through her system.

  That damned ride needed to arrive.

  No sooner had the thought entered his mind that one of the Protector’s SUVs pulled up to the curb. With a glance down the street, Griffin strode to the vehicle, wrenched the back door open and piled inside with his slight burden.

  “Drive.” His voice held a hint of his inner demon, the woman’s presence having brought him to his basest needs.

  “Griff? What the fuck, man?”

  “To my home, Simond. Now.” The other vamp, another Protector, did as he asked, shooting Griffin a glare before turning around and getting their truck on the move.

  In relative safety, Griffin did what he’d been aching to do since the first glimpse of the woman. He pulled her into his lap, cuddling her close as he bared his fangs and slid them into the vulnerable skin at her neck. The stranger twitched and fought against him, her weak movements no challenge against his strength. He pulled at the wound, suckled the holes he’d created. The acidic tang of the pixie’s blood flowed over his tongue and he fought to keep his mouth in place. Pure, the poison would have killed him, but diluted by her life-giving fluid, it simply decimated his palate.

  The enzymes in his saliva would help what was to come. She needed this. Blood for blood and she’d…

  “Griffin?” Simond’s voice was censuring, a warning clear in his tone.

  Another suckle at the slices in her skin and he released her, baring his fangs at his friend and brother Protector. “Mine.”

  Ignoring the shock that crossed Simond’s features, he tore at his wrist and made a fist, releasing and tightening until blood pooled along his pale skin. He pressed the wound to this stranger’s mouth, this woman who called to him like no one else in over three hundred years.

  “Drink.” Her head tossed from side to side, eyelids lifting and falling, but refusing to remain open as she attempting to fight him. He tightened his grip, forcing his wrist snug against her lips. “Drink.”

  Those plump lips shifted against his cool skin, her heat searing him as her tongue lapped at the tear in his wrist. She suckled and then moaned, flexible muscle going back for more and more of his blood, the fluid that would save her life…and tie them together for eternity. He’d be able to find her anywhere now.

  With every draw, his cock hardened further beneath her, throbbing and silently demanding to be sheathed in her warm, wet heat. Perverted fuck that he was, his brain agreed.

  Her wounds healed before his eyes, her body purging the last of the poison before sealing every nick and scratch caused by the pixies. And still she drank. The healthy flush of life imbued her cheeks and her labored breathing eased.

  Those green orbs were revealed once again, new life shining in their depths. And then they drifted closed as she fell into a natural sleep.

  Part of him worried over how much she took, but the primal part of him that lay just beneath the thin veneer of humanity relished the ability to heal his mate.

  Fuck, fuck and fuck again.

  With a final sigh, she released his wrist and he brought it to his mouth, sealing the tear with a single swipe of his tongue.

  “What. The. Fuck, man?” Simond’s voice yanked him from his mate.

  “She’s mine, Simond.”

  “Dude. I’m all for doing the dirty with humans. Hell, they’re even a nice snack now and again. But, that was not a snack. That was a fucking buffet and it was the wrong one of ya doin’ the buffet-ing.”

  Griffin bared his fangs at his friend, snarls and growls filling the dark interior of the car.

  “Okay, man, okay. Don’t getcha panties in a bunch. I’m just sayin’ that Carac’s gonna hear about this and—”

  Carac, their Sovereign, the Master vampire that held them together, guided them as they protected the city. Elder and more powerful than all the city’s Protectors combined, he was judge, jury and executioner for all Others in Atlanta. And he wouldn’t be surprised if the vampire came after him for the night’s events.

  “Don’t. Give me until daybreak, Simond and I’ll release her. I vow it.” Griffin stroked her rosy cheek with a single finger, traced the slope of her nose and the outline of her tempting lips.

  “It’s the first exchange, Griff.”

  “I know.” His cock throbbed at the thought of doing another…then going further and completing their bond with a third. Thrice bound…

  But it was impossible. He would have this tempting siren out of his system come morning.

  He had no other choice.

  Chapter Two

  Wren was slow to wake, mind pushing through the cotton and syrup that seemed to surround her head as she was thrust from unconsciousness. Memories, vivid and disturbing, assaulted her…fairy light flying things…fluttering wings…fierce, man-eating, what-the-fuck teeth!

  And a savior… God, even as she’d been bleeding in a disgusting alley, she couldn’t forget the mountain of a man. He’d saved her, cradled and protected her from what was probably her own fucked up mind.


  And hot. At least, her fuzzy memory thought he was hot. He’d had short, dark hair, slightly long on top, but just enough to grab when he was between her… Ahem. Anyway. He’d had a strong jaw, kissable (not that she knew for sure) lips and eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness that had surrounded them. He’d been snarling and gruff, but gentle as he’d held her close to him.

  Wren really hoped he hadn’t been a delusion, too. That would suck.

  Pulling at her eyelids, she forced her eyes open, the feeling of sand grating over the sensitive tissues bringing tears forward. Rolling her head to the side, she looked for the clock that sat on her bedside table, only to find it…gone. Of course, her bedside table wasn’t there, either. It’d been replaced by some gold-gilded, frou-frou furniture that looked like it belonged in Buckingham Palace. Last time she’d checked, she lived in a tiny studio apartment with second-hand furniture.

  Another shift of muscles and she was looking to her right. Huh. There was a matching table there.

  Lovely.

  Groaning, she rose to her elbow, skin pulling and stretching, as if she no longer fit inside herself. A glance around the room reveled that Dorothy was not in Kansas and Wren had truly jumped off the deep end. Plus, she was naked beneath the thin sheet that covered her.

  The soft click of the door drew her attention and she watched as her super-hunk came through the portal, a tray of what she assumed was food balancing on one hand. A wide smile graced his features and her heart tripped, beat thumping in an uneven rhythm.

  He was more beautiful than she’d imagined. His shoulders were wide, nearly as wide as the doorway, and his added height made him intimidating. Yet she sensed a hidden kindness in him. His eyes didn’t glow as she’d thought, but were an ice-like blue. She had no doubt that his stare could shift from tender to fierce in an instant, melting or freezing his target between one blink and the next. His lips were just as tempting as she recalled.